Although she now had production tools, Ashley encountered a new problem—getting around was inconvenient.
Every time she went out, she needed to show proof. While it wasn’t a strict restriction, wandering around aimlessly during her sentence for reform was not allowed.
What to do?
Ashley’s clever little brain quickly came up with an idea.
Mr. Lu Xun had said that if you opened a hole in the prison wall, someone was bound to use it to escape.
This led to a classic logic puzzle: If it’s not your hole, why would you escape?
The subtext was that the hole you escaped through must have been one you made yourself.
Unlike helping an elderly person, its logic was sound.
Ashley called out, and Sasha flapped its wings and flew over. It perched on the table, stretched its neck in and out as it retched outward. Several lumps of gold coated in acid slid out of its throat with a ‘plop’ into the glass beaker.
The gold teeth and rings from Diamonds 4 and Hearts 3 had already been chewed into mush, making them easy to fence.
–
After Onna Williams’s death, the atmosphere in the community grew subtle—oppressive and stifling, brewing a storm.
The reason was that the pyramid structure of the 83 juvenile delinquents’ hierarchy had shifted.
At the very bottom of the pyramid—or discrimination chain—were the loners not absorbed into any gang. They couldn’t band together or resist because their role was that of bottom-feeders, unworthy of resources. They could only scavenge scraps and leftovers while the upper levels vented their emotions by bullying them. This also helped form friendships and self-identity among the bullies.
These bottom-feeders were usually ordered around and cursed at—that was the mild stuff. There were many ways to inflict pain without leaving visible marks. They’d be dragged to isolated spots and tortured for hours. Some went insane and were sent to mental hospitals, others killed themselves, but it barely caused a ripple.
A certain number of bottom-feeders had to be maintained; otherwise, the massive pyramid couldn’t be supported. The stronger the upper levels’ desires, the more bottom-feeders they needed. So, whenever numbers dropped, mid-levelers would be demoted to the bottom.
At the top of the pyramid were the core members of gangs with ten or more people. Unless it was a rival gang leader of equal standing, no one dared provoke them—not even the seconds-in-command. This was an unwritten rule.
Friction between leaders could lead to shootouts.
But big incidents were generally bad for everyone, so the delinquents usually coordinated resolutions. Stability came first.
The Emperor who had once stood at the pinnacle of the Juvenile Delinquent Reform Community—Onna Williams—had been toppled from his pedestal. He croaked, and Ashley had whipped his corpse madly with a water pipe. Onna’s gang suffered a heavy blow and soon crumbled under attacks from their enemies.
With the peak vacant, by succession, the leaders of the four strongest gangs among the upper pyramid—the Four Heavenly Kings—automatically rose.
But there was only one Emperor’s throne.
Just like vying for martial arts alliance leader, they needed to pull off something ruthless to win over the crowd.
Ashley noticed the shifting dynamics but found it boring. She was only interested in supernatural powers now.
At breakfast in the cafeteria, she had her usual vegetable mush. The surprise was an extra serving of fried fish patty with yogurt.
As the Blue-Haired Loli gnawed at her tough, burnt fish patty with her snow-white little teeth, a girl with thick, glossy hair tied in a crooked ponytail stood up from her seat and walked straight toward her.
Betty Vogt, one of the Four Heavenly Kings. She controlled a back alley and wasteland abutting the outer wall in the community’s north, having fortified a two-story warehouse into a ‘fortress.’ She was known as the Warehouse Queen.
The cafeteria fell deathly silent in an instant—even the clink of spoons against plates grew softer.
Ashley was the most unique existence among the delinquents.
First, she had been imprisoned without committing a crime.
That was the scariest part. The delinquents couldn’t fathom why someone innocent would be locked up. It meant her danger level was so high that not confining her would harm society.
Then there was the horrifying corpse-whipping.
“Hey, the Queen Betty isn’t about to challenge the ‘Iron Stick Immortal,’ is she?” someone whispered.
Because of Ashley’s mastery with iron pipes, the delinquents called her the Iron Stick Immortal.
“If she can suppress the Iron Stick Immortal, she’d naturally be the new Emperor—no one would object.”
“Anyone who’s seen the ‘Cock Tyrant’ Onna’s corpse wouldn’t doubt the Iron Stick Immortal’s terror.”
“Betty’s really walking over!”
…
Ashley dangled half-eaten fish patty from her mouth, staying perfectly still, her lips gleaming with grease. She grumbled inwardly.
Hey, what’s with this chuunibyou vibe?
Why were these guys bulging their eyes like they were witnessing a historic moment?
Flora sat beside her, sensing the impending storm. She set down her spoon, pursed her lips tight, and didn’t dare breathe.
The girl reached the table and extended a slender hand tattooed with flowers.
“Ashley, join Betty’s gang. Let’s be sworn sisters.”
The words immediately caused an uproar.
“Too sly—the Warehouse Queen wants to team up with the Iron Stick Immortal!”
“In the current situation, that’s a shortcut to the Emperor’s throne!”
…
Ashley cringed so hard her toes curled.
Was there any difference between being the delinquents’ Emperor and king of idiots?
Flora grew anxious for some reason, her little body trembling slightly. Finally, she couldn’t hold back. She tugged Ashley’s clothes and, unusually assertive, whispered in her ear:
“Betty Vogt was sent here for sexual extortion. Outside, she hunted rich women, dolled herself up to look mature, hooked up with them in hotels, then revealed her minor status to squeeze them for cash.”
Flora had handled every delinquent here. The second-to-last was the arsonist Donahue Dick. Of course, the last was herself.
“Too evil!”
Ashley glanced over. The girl had a pretty face—big, bright eyes with clear lines, a high nose bridge, lips like plump rose petals embedded in a soft, milky-white face. Her skin was the kind that tempted you to pinch it till water came out. No wonder the older sisters fell for it.
To be picky, she was ‘overdone’ in beauty—piling on elements without taste, pretty but not elegant. But it was natural.
“Don’t worry, I can’t scam you,” Betty seemed to hear the whisper and flashed an ambiguous smile. “Because you’re a minor too.”
What a sharp angle. Ashley laughed wryly.
“Stay away from her! Shameless jerk!” She… she actually wanted to defile Ashley… Absolutely not…
Unable to endure it anymore, Flora puffed up like a mother hen guarding her chick, neck craned, face set in desperate resolve.
Betty and Ashley both jumped.
But Betty, experienced with girls, saw through the blond loli’s bluff at a glance. She covered her mouth and chuckled lightly.
“Oh? Don’t tell me you… like her?”
“Ehhh?!”
Flora panicked, trying to cover with a string of yells. Her little face flushed red and pale by turns as she defended herself:
“Sh-She’s my friend! I have to protect my friend from people like you!”
Meanwhile, in the narrow alley behind the cafeteria wall, several people were bullying a one-armed boy.
Two stories unfolded on either side of the wall.
“Hey, arsonist, you like fire so much? Try this.”
A newspaper rolled into a ‘cigarette’ was shoved into the boy’s mouth. He resisted a bit and got slapped.
“Big bro, lemme light it for ya~”
The delinquent with a Mohican haircut grinned sleazily, thumb flicking his lighter to spark a flame.
The newspaper burned fast. The boy coughed from the smoke but exhaled through his mouth and breathed through his nose secretly, barely holding on.
“You gotta smoke it properly…”
The Mohican pinched his nose, forcing him to inhale through his mouth. Thick smoke scorched his lungs with burning pain. He writhed but was pinned down by the others.
“That’s it? When you burned Uncle Pearson to death, he suffered a hundred times worse!” The Mohican’s face darkened, eyes bulging with hatred.
“Uncle was a good guy, took in a punk like me as an apprentice. What did you do to him?!”
The Mohican’s arm whipped back then swung forward in a heavy arc!
Thud!
After the dull thump, Donahue Dick’s body arched taut like a shrimp. He couldn’t even breathe, teeth gritted, face drenched in cold sweat. His sparse bangs, now wet, stuck like twisted wire, failing to hide his sinister glare.
